


Tell Me, Oh Please, Tell Me

by son_of_a_bitch_spn_family



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ABO verse, Basically, Dean and Cas Fail To Get Together In A Lot Of Ways, M/M, Post Apocalyptic AU, So This Is A Crack-fic, Sort Of, The Tagging On This Is Hard, also Canon Divergence, i think???, siren au, superhero au, temporary major character death, until they dont, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 23:09:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18353630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/son_of_a_bitch_spn_family/pseuds/son_of_a_bitch_spn_family
Summary: “It just doesn't make sense. I mean, they love each other, no matter where they are, but why aren't they getting together?”“Maybe they're supposed to have that kind of tragic love? You know, the ones where they'd be perfect, but something always keeps them apart.” Amara arches an eyebrow pointedly. “Also, it might help if you didn't try to have them fall in love amidst a zombie apocalypse.”“That was one time, and that was great until they died.” Chuck reached up to tug at his hair, groaning. “Maybe I need to go in there, give them a nudge. I mean, I made them for each other, why aren't they working?”Amara snorts. “Yeah, don't do that. Complete interference and doesn't count. How about you just come up with a story that doesn't end in tragedy?”“I tried that. And they still managed to be apart.”“So maybe they aren't meant to be.”Chuck narrows his eyes and points at her with a scowl. “Yes, they are."...The one in which, Dean and Cas are never simple, but they're worth it.





	Tell Me, Oh Please, Tell Me

**Author's Note:**

> Okay guys, I'm actually very stupidly pleased with this one, not gonna lie. This little thing has been chipping away at me for days, so I finally sat down and let it happen. 
> 
> Not too shabby, I gotta say ;)
> 
> Enjoy.

_ Tell me, oh please, tell me this isn't the end.  _

 

***

 

The sounds of shuffling bodies and creaking bones echo ominously through the leveled concrete garage, macabre groans and grinding bones like a horrific soundtrack. The shadows creep out and box them in, caging them against the wall. Hidden only by the warped plastic of a 2010 Toyota, thankfully without tires, they stay hunkered down in silence. 

 

Dean breathes into his palm, shuddering out hot air and sucking it back in quietly. The sunset is nothing but a mural of misshapen silhouettes against the cracking stone above their heads, moving in tandem with the shattered bodies staggering mindlessly on the other side of their barrier. 

 

Castiel is utterly silent. 

 

Dean wants to say something to him, possibly offer comfort. Mostly, he wants to swear that they will get out of this, wants to make promises he can't keep. With nothing more than a pistol with four bullets left and a dull knife in between them, he has no assurances to give. 

 

The car jolts as one of those  _ things  _ knock into it. Dean holds his breath, hand snapping out to latch onto Castiel's, practically crushing his fingers in his grip. Full of patience, Castiel simply turns his hand over and threads their fingers together, clutching back just as hard. 

 

Oh. 

 

They've never done this before. To be fair, Dean has never extended the olive-branch. Castiel isn't much the type to seek comfort in his vulnerability, which Dean isn't  _ either,  _ but shit has changed. 

 

Well, besides the monsters who like to feast on flesh, much actually  _ hasn't  _ changed. So. 

 

But still,  _ this  _ is new. Whatever, they're seconds from death; Dean doesn't have time for this shit. He takes what he gets and holds Castiel's fucking hand because what else does he have to lose. 

 

Two fingers nearly jab him in the eye, and Dean jerks back in surprise. Castiel flicks his free hand to the other side of Dean, nodding his head. Following his gaze, there is a wide air shaft with a deformed screen, only shut by the strength of one desperate screw. 

 

Dean's heart leaps in his chest and he gives a sharp nod, flicking his gaze above his head. By his guess, that air shaft only leads to the other side of the garage. While that doesn't change much - this place is fucking  _ crawling  _ with them things - it does give them an opportunity. 

 

Castiel lifts his free hand again, waving around a small piece of rubble. It's the size of his palm, a small thing that will skip, and Dean's lips spread into a smile. With nothing more than a look between them and a gentle hand-squeeze, they have a plan. 

 

Silent as he can, Dean edges closer to the air shaft. His left arm dangles between them, his hand still resolutely clasped on Castiel's, but he lets go to work on the air shaft. Both of his hands tremble as he works the screw out, doing his best to keep it as quiet as possible. 

 

Fucking  _ yes.  _

 

With a grin, Dean gently pulls the screen off the opening, carefully setting it aside. Castiel beams at him, blue eyes soft with pride and joy. He carefully rolls the rock in his hand and pulls his arm back. Dean shifts to the side to get ready to crawl through the air shaft. 

 

There is always a moment that one can pinpoint where things go wrong. If Dean would have been able to tell the tale, he would have said it was his mistake. If you'd have asked Castiel, he would have said that something that miniscule could have only been the work of fate. 

 

The screw, dangling from the hole in the screen, forgotten, suddenly loses its fight to hold on and falls through the air. It clatters against the floor with a sharp skittering noise, echoing shrilly as it hits the concrete and rolls to a stop by Dean's boot. 

 

The garage goes eerily silent. 

 

All shuffling stops, groans cutting off, and Dean holds his breath as he raises his gaze to Castiel's, green eyes locking onto blue. 

 

For one moment - just a short fold of time that doesn't stretch long enough - there is nothing. The flowing mural has frozen, the sound of flesh colliding and shifting over one another in cloying decay has went still, and the only thing that continues is the shadows that slither up the stone they lean against. 

 

Then, as the saying goes, all hell breaks loose. 

 

The clambering sounds of bones rattling against each other flood Dean's ears, and he feels only numbness when he reaches out and takes Castiel's hand this time. Groans have turned to slobbering hisses, declarations of hunger creaking from parched throats. The car starts rocking in earnest as limbs rise over the sides like grotesque waves. 

 

There is nothing else to do, so they crouch there, hands cradling each other, eyes unwavering. 

 

Dean and Castiel do not get to tell their tale. But they have a sparse moment to say  _ something _ now, so Dean opens his mouth. 

 

“I wish-” 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_ Tell me, oh please, tell me we find peace.  _

  
***

 

Sam heaves yet another sigh, the exhale so strong that it ruffles the frills of his poet shirt. Dean has always hated that he wore it so tight to his throat, sure that the cut off from air goes to his head. Mindless to his internal insults, Sam raises his arms high and lets them flop back down, bishop sleeves billowing dramatically in the wind. 

 

“Careful, Sam,” Dean taunts, clenching his hands on Baby's helm. “Acting as you are, the crew will think you nothing more than a lady.” 

 

Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Well, not to insult your intelligence,  _ captain,  _ but where are we going?” 

 

“You shall see when we arrive.” 

 

“Captain, we've been sailing for  _ days.  _ The crew is restless now. Kevin is threatening to chew his own arm off.” 

 

“Careful with that one; he's almost more of a lady than you are.” 

 

_ “Dean.”  _

 

“That's  _ Captain  _ to you,” Dean corrects sharply, eyes narrowing as he watches his black sails flap in the ocean breeze. 

 

“Captain,” Sam agrees gently, “I am merely expressing my concern that-” 

 

“You are hereby excused of doing so,” Dean cuts him off easily. “The deck needs brushing. Why don't you take the lead on  _ that?”  _

 

Sam reaches out and claps a hand on Dean's shoulder firmly. “Dean, I am your  _ brother,  _ and I am here, in flesh and blood. What you are chasing, it is nothing more than a dream.” 

 

“Do  _ not  _ tell me what I haven't saw. And it's Captain to you!” 

 

Huffing, Dean snatches away from the helm and stomps off to slam his way into his captain's quarters. The day is slipping away to night, and Dean flings himself down on his cot to watch the transition through the slats of wood. He sighs as he stares at the light slowly growing thinner in the air. 

 

Before long, he nods off into a short nap. 

 

Dean wakes to screaming, jolting up from his thin sheets with a strangled gasp. The sound of his first mate - his  _ brother  _ \- yelling his name in pure terror has his blood rushing rapidly. Bursting from his quarters, he comes to a screeching halt at the sight of complete chaos on his ship. 

 

Monstrous creatures writhe on the deck, wrapping long tentacle-like limbs around various members of his crew. They draw them in with hums, deformed bodies vibrating with an evil energy Dean has only ever applied to the myth of the Kraken. Garth walks right into the waiting arms of one of the creatures, smiling happily as it squirms fluidly over the side of the ship. Garth does not even scream as he is dragged into the cold grip of the ocean. 

 

“Dean, we have to run,” Sam yells, nearly colliding into him as he rushes over. 

 

Dean watches with wide eyes as Benny jumps ship to swim out to one of the waiting creatures. 

 

“Sirens,” he announces softly. “I told you, Sam. I  _ told  _ you they had him here.” 

 

Sam grips his shoulder. “Okay, you were not misinformed, but now is  _ not  _ the time. We need to get as many people as we can and we need to  _ hide.  _ Now, Captain.” 

 

Dean nods sharply, straightening his shoulders and scanning the deck. “You are correct, Sam. Who remains?” 

 

“I'm not sure? I believe Kevin has taken a few under the deck. I suggest we wait it out in your quarters, grab who we can and…” 

 

“Yes, of course. Let's-” 

 

Dean's words freeze in his throat as his gaze collides with eyes he's only saw one other time. As deep as the ocean, as fathomless as the sky, the blue eyes are wide and full of panic. Dean's breath freezes in his chest, slamming to an abrupt halt. 

 

“Dean?” Sam asks, voice lilting in fear. 

 

Dean swallows thickly. “Gather those you can, I will follow along. I need to do something.” 

 

Before Sam can say anything, Dean is swinging himself over the upper level of his ship. He lands with a dull thump, leather shoes scuffing loudly. Sam yells for him, Dean knows that, but he only hears the pumping of blood in his veins. 

 

He draws his dagger from his worn holster, fondling it as he marches past the other sirens. They seem too focused on their own victims, careless as Dean passes them in quick strides. 

 

A creature slithers and slides up behind the man with blue eyes, limbs reaching out, and Dean breaks into a run. Mindless, he rams right into the man slamming him out of the path of the creature. The man sags into his grip, soft sigh falling from his lips. 

 

“Sir, we need to leave,” Dean tells him seriously, trying to tug him from the side of the ship they stumbled against. If he were to look, Dean would see the ocean lapping against the side of the ship hungrily, waves reaching out and calling at them. 

 

The man looks relieved. “Of course, we shall,” he agrees quietly, his voice a rough storm rolling in along the tides. 

 

“I have been searching for you,” Dean admits quietly, staring into those blue eyes, thinking he'd never want to do anything else. 

 

“You have found me,” the man replies softly, reaching one hand up to place it against the scruff of Dean's cheek. “Thank you, sailor.” 

 

Dean smiles, only distantly aware of his brother screaming his name. The man drags his fingers down Dean's neck, blue eyes slowly drawing closer. He only gets to suck in one sharp breath before lips are upon his, a gentle thank-you. His tongue coaxes Dean's, sucking it into his mouth, and Dean hums helplessly into the kiss. 

 

He feels as if he is falling. 

 

The sharp plunge of the ocean is merely a hindrance, and Dean is willing to drown to kiss this man forever. Even with his eyes closed, he sees the blue eyes of the man he has went on a dangerous quest to save. 

 

The ocean wraps around him, yanking his body farther down into its depths. Dean does not care; the only concern he has is kissing this man for the rest of whatever life he has left. 

 

The hand on his cheek feels strange now, smooth a sleek, but surely that is the saltiness of the water. He wonders vaguely how they fell into the sea below them. And as the kiss breaks, immediately replaced with water rushing into his lungs, Dean has a moment of clarity. 

 

The man he meant to save is not a man at all. 

 

The kiss pressed into his throat turns too sharp, harsh now against the brittleness of the ocean's savagery. The sting of the salt is worth opening his eyes to seek out those blue orbs he feels compelled to love, but only darkness and death awaits. 

 

And as the blue-eyed siren takes its meal, Dean tries to form one last thought. 

 

_ I wish-  _

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_ Tell me, oh please, tell me we have nothing to regret.  _

  
***

 

“Daddy!” 

 

Dean laughs as his daughter sails into his arms, her black hair tickling his cheek as she wraps her tiny arms around his neck and  _ squeezes.  _ He sidles her to his hip, beaming at her when she pulls back. Her green eyes match his, shining with joy. 

 

“Hey there, pumpkin,” he greets softly, chest aching with how much he loves her. “You excited for today?” 

 

She bobbed her head seriously. “Sure am! First ever alpha allowed in Ballet. Papa says that no matter what, I am going to be great.” 

 

Dean flicks his gaze to Castiel, who leans in the doorway to the entrance of his house. His arms are crossed, eyes locked onto them with intensity, but despite the tightness to his lips, the soft beside his blue eyes are undeniable. Dean slaps on a grin. 

 

“Papa is entirely right,” Dean tells her, reaching up to boop her nose. “But what's this alpha nonsense? No matter what you are, you are welcome to do  _ whatever  _ you like. Remember that, okay?” 

 

Dean wishes he'd been told that when he was six. 

 

But alas. 

 

“Alright, come and get your shoes,” Castiel calls out, not unkindly. 

 

Dean dutifully kisses his daughter's cheek and sits her down, watching her run off to do as she was told. As she disappears into the house, Castiel casually walks out towards Dean, looking so utterly different than the first time he saw him, but also the same. 

 

No, he has on no leather  _ or  _ make-up, but he still walks just as he always has and the arch to his eyebrow hasn't changed one bit. And those eyes, those  _ blue  _ eyes, are still enough to take Dean's breath. 

 

“Dean,” Castiel rumbles in greeting. 

 

Dean tries not to think about the fact that he has kissed those lips. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says reflexively, like a day hadn't passed since he whispered that greeting into Castiel's ear when they woke up curled around each other. 

 

Castiel falters only for a moment. “Are you going to behave today?” 

 

“Oh, you know me, Cas.” Dean lifts his hands as if surrendering. “I'm the pinochle of innocence.” 

 

“How's Sam?” Castiel asks, coming to a stop a few feet in front of him, not too close like he used to always do when he had no grip on personal space. 

 

“He's good. He, uh, just had pups. Well, Jess did, but ya know. Two boys,” Dean replied. 

 

Castiel smiles fondly. “That's wonderful. I'm sure they are very happy.” 

 

“As happy as they can be with two babies puking on them every ten minutes. I, uh, got my own apartment because I figured they needed the space. Plus Jess griped about not being able to walk around naked more than once, and according to Sam, that was practically an eviction notice.” 

 

“I'm sure you're helping.” 

 

Dean reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, suddenly uncertain about this. “I was, until I moved.”

 

“Dean, simply because you do not reside with them does  _ not  _ mean you can abandon them,” Castiel chides seriously, eyebrows pinching together. 

 

“It's kinda hard to help them with the kids when I live a few states away.” 

 

“Oh. You- you moved away.” 

 

“I moved here.” Dean swallows thickly. “Got myself a nice little apartment a few miles from the garage I'm working out. Bobby Singer gave me a job - you know him; he worked out our little Toyota a few years back, remember? He-” 

 

“I know him,” Castiel snaps sharply, immediately drawing up to full height after the harshness of his tone registers. He clears his throat, and when he speaks again, his words are much softer. “So, you came back.” 

 

Dean nods once. “Yes.” 

 

“Why?” 

 

“My daughter.  _ Our  _ daughter.” 

 

“I see.” Castiel sweeps his gaze down Dean's body, almost involuntarily. “And nothing else?” 

 

Dean isn't sure what the right answer to that question is, so he settles for, “I want to get her this weekend, if that's okay. I mean, I'd be willing to help you out, you know. Like if you're busy, or want a break, or… or anything.” 

 

“This weekend?” Castiel asks, narrowing his eyes. 

 

“If that's okay.” 

 

“No, not this weekend. She will be with Garth and Beth's kids all weekend.” 

 

“And what are you doing this weekend?” Dean murmurs, looking up through his lashes, unable to stop himself from being so fucking  _ obvious.  _

 

“I'm staying in. It's that time of the month,” Castiel replies blandly, wrinkling his nose. 

 

Dean's eyebrows shoot up at that. “You're off the suppressants?” 

 

“Yes.” Castiel frowns. “I don't want- my daughter should never feel ashamed for what her natural bodily functions are, not as I have. Leading by example is a good place to start.” 

 

“Do you want help with-” 

 

“Seriously?” 

 

Dean rolls his eyes. “That's not what I was gonna say. I just meant, next month, if you're open to it, I'll take her while you're… in.” 

 

Castiel's eyebrows crumble together. “Dean, stop acting as if I've  _ ever  _ kept our daughter from you. Anytime you want her, as long as it coincides with her schedule, you may have her. If you'd like, I can actually write up a rotation and we can have it notarized.” 

 

“I wasn't saying that you have, or do, or whatever. Look, it's not like that, okay? I'm just trying to respect you and what you got goin’ on here. Don't wanna step on any toes; you've done really good for yourself  _ and  _ her.” Dean takes a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. “I just- I'm trying, is all. And I'll pass on the schedule, Cas. Feels too close to a custody agreement, and last I checked, we don't need that.” 

 

“Okay,” Castiel says quietly, face softening. 

 

Dean nods decisively. “Anything you or her need, just ask and it's yours.” 

 

Something entirely  _ beautiful  _ passes through Castiel's eyes, and for a brief moment, he bites his lip just like he always used to when he wanted to kiss him. Dean suddenly does not care that they don't do that anymore, doesn't give one fuck that they haven't touched in  _ years;  _ he takes an abrupt step forward, a small throb setting up shop in his chest. And he'll do it. He'll crowd in close and claim those lips just as he has so many times before, and nothing will change, but Castiel will  _ let  _ him. 

 

Except, he can't. 

 

He clenches his fists and forces his gaze to the ground, letting out a shuddering breath. The audible rumble in his chest slowly lessens until it disappears altogether. When he looks back up, Castiel releases his bottom lip from the tenuous grip of his teeth and swallows, blue eyes shrouding with shame for a second. Dean traces his step back and blinks. 

 

Ah, of course. Nothing more than the ridiculous pull of true mates, so nothing at all. Not to Castiel anyway. 

 

“I am glad you are back,” Castiel murmurs, like his words are a confession. 

 

Dean's smile trembles on his lips. “You have no fucking idea how happy I am to be back.” 

 

Castiel releases a soft laugh. “Well, I will be thankful of the help. And our daughter has missed you between the visits.” 

 

“I know it wasn't ideal. I just- I had to get my head screwed on straight after-” 

 

“I know.” 

 

Castiel looks ashamed, and while that would have pleased the Dean from last year, it only makes him feel guilty now. Dean wants to say something, wants to profess his love, wants to apologize.  _ Something.  _ But his daughter comes skipping out the house like the superhero she is, saving him from making a fool of himself. Castiel perks up at the sight of her, the smile stretching across his face nothing less than a fucking  _ crime,  _ and Dean wants so desperately to be part of the reason. 

 

“Daddy, look at my shoes!” she exclaims, waving her ballet shoes like trophies. 

 

Dean bites back his laugh. “They're magnificent, just like you.” 

 

“Papa says that he's gonna get me a cheetah print pair if I pass all my classes,” she tells him matter-of-factly. 

 

“Cheetah print?” Dean asks, eyebrows sweeping up in amusement. 

 

Castiel rolls his eyes. “She's expressing herself. Alright, go get in the car. You know how to buckle your seatbelt over your booster seat, so don't loop it over the handles. I  _ will  _ be checking.” 

 

She dances in place. “Can daddy ride with us?” 

 

“Not right now, maybe next time.” Castiel waves a hand pointedly to the car. “Go.” 

 

She does, pouting the whole way, and Dean beams at his own expression on her face. 

 

“Bribery?” he teases. 

 

Castiel has the decency to look chagrined. “She's already tired of school and she's only in first grade.”

 

“Definitely my kid.” 

 

“You're telling me.” 

 

Dean snorts. “Alright, I'll meet you at the theatre. Is it okay if- well, you open with saving me a seat? I'd like, if you're okay with it, to sit with you so she can see us both in the crowd.” 

 

Castiel stares at him for a long moment, expression open and closed off all at once. He licks his lips, exterior finally cracking into something so heartbreakingly  _ tragic  _ that Dean wants to gauge his own eyeballs out instead of selfishly savoring it. There, so clear and obvious on his face, Castiel looks at him with naked and unashamed  _ want.  _

 

“Actually, do you want to ride with us?” Castiel asks slowly, hands fluttering nervously at his sides. He shuffles awkwardly. “She'd be-  _ we'd  _ be happy to have you with us.” 

 

And Dean can. He can slide right into that horrific Explorer, just as easily as sliding back into Castiel's bed. He can shift his way right back into his life, can find his footing in the same way he had before. And he  _ desperately  _ wants to, but the facts remain.

 

Castiel never wanted a true mate, and much has not changed in two years - that much Dean is certain of. He'd wanted independence and a career, and Dean had wanted a good fuck to make it through the night. They'd gotten more than they bargained for when they realized they were true mates and expecting, and even with  _ trying,  _ they hadn't been able to make it. 

 

Dean takes most of the blame, aware now that he could have altered so many things if he'd only let go of his father's stupid belief system. Castiel was never meant to have children and be hopelessly in love with Dean, but two years ago, that was all Dean had wanted from him. 

 

A family, he'd called it. Wholesome, sure, but selfish. Castiel never even got a choice, and Dean wishes more than anything that he could just go back to that final argument and take back everything he'd said. Instead, he'd say that they could take it slow, that there were options, that Castiel had every scrap of freedom he'd wanted. 

 

But Dean can't go back, and he can't fix what they didn't know how to salvage. He knows that placing a brand new cover over something cannot fix the mess underneath. And he refuses to do that. 

 

So, with a bittersweet smile, he says the one thing he'd never have been able to get out two years ago, “No, you two go on without me, I'll catch up.” 

 

Castiel looks regretful for a moment, looking at Dean searchingly, his breath held. And they have this irreversible  _ pull  _ between them that Dean can't ever escape, but he knows he'll never want to. They may not be together, may never be together again, but they have an amazing daughter between them and a life to continue on living, even apart. 

 

“Okay, Dean,” Castiel says softly, eyes shining with something that might have been tears. 

 

Dean watches him walk to his horrible SUV and slide in, clipping their daughter in properly. And as they drive off, he allows himself one selfish moment. Though it will not change anything, will not prompt him to make a different choice, he gets the words out into the world anyway.

 

“I wish-” 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_ Tell me, oh please, tell me we'll meet again.  _

  
***

 

The sound of the alarm blaring jolts Dean from his bed, making his eyes snap open. He leans over to fiddle with the police radio, ignoring the crackle as words started to split through. 

 

_ -another attack on Sycove Valley, looks like the work of The Halo with-  _

 

That is all Dean needs to hear; he's up and out of the bed faster than he should be without coffee first. He practically crashes into his closet to get to his suit out. Honestly, he needs to switch out masks, his preferred one still has blood stains. 

 

Heart hammering, he slips into his vest and digs in his drawers to grab his daggers. As they slide into the holsters of the weapon belt clipped on his chest, Dean steps into his boots. It's a rush-job getting the rest of his suit pieced together - being  _ The Hunter  _ is not as glamorous as he'd like to pretend it is. 

 

There's a knock on his door, but before Dean can even open his mouth, Sam pokes his head in. 

 

“Figured you'd be heading out.” 

 

“Sam, what are you doing up?” Dean mutters, looking under his mattress for his grapple-gun. 

 

Sam huffs a short laugh. “I have a radio too, you know. They  _ do  _ give them out at the academy.” 

 

“And? Your point?” Dean waves his hand carelessly and frowns when he finds nothing. “Hey, you seen my grapple-gun?” 

 

“Dean, it's hanging on the hook right there.” Sam nods to the hook by his closet. “Look at you, you're a mess.” 

 

Dean rolls his eyes and hops up to move towards the closet. “Again, what's your point?” 

 

“Just what is it about  _ The Halo _ that gets you?” Sam asks in amusement. “Every single time there is a call about him, you rush off to go after him.” 

 

“Sam, he's  _ bad.  _ What more is there to say? I'm good, he's bad. He does bad things, I go after him. This is the way the world works,” Dean explains with an arched eyebrow. 

 

Sam arches an eyebrow right back, and Dean can admit that his has more attitude. “If that was the case, he'd be behind bars already. When are you gonna bag this guy?” 

 

“Hey, you've seen him; he's- well, he's good at being bad,” Dean says defensively. 

 

“And you're good at stopping bad guys. Well, usually. You don't seem to keen on-”

 

“Do  _ not  _ finish that sentence.” 

 

Sam smirks pointedly. “Dad is going to  _ kill  _ you if he finds out.” 

 

“Finds out what? There is nothing to find out,” Dean snaps, narrowing his eyes at his annoyingly taller little brother. He shuffles over to pocket his handcuffs. “Shut up about this, okay? I'll get  _ The Halo  _ when I can.” 

 

“I'm just saying-” 

 

“Well don't.” 

 

“Dean.” Sam sighs softly, smiling slightly. “You know, maybe I can come and get some hours. I still have four more left to get signed off on.” 

 

Dean shakes his head. “Nope, I've got this under control. Besides, the academy wants you to do superhero work with your guardian. Dad said he'd take you out to bag  _ Stream Wind  _ this weekend.” 

 

“Yeah, but  _ Stream Wind  _ is an idiot. Dad and I will get her in an hour flat. I want some  _ real  _ action.” 

 

“Trust me, when you graduate, you'll get plenty of real action.” 

 

“Maybe we can catch  _ The Halo  _ together. Tonight. Me and you. Brother bonding.” Sam slaps on a smile, one that  _ dares  _ Dean to deny him. “What do you say?” 

 

“Hmm, let me think about that. Well, I guess-  _ no.  _ You are not coming,” Dean tell him seriously, waggling a finger. “We can bond after you graduate. For now, you need to finish your paper on  _ The Morning Star,  _ okay?” 

 

Sam groans. “Why do I have to do a paper on a villain already in the pit? He's put away, when will we move on?” 

 

“He killed hundreds of people, Sam,” Dean murmurs with a frown. “Yeah, it happened years ago,  _ but  _ we don't just forget shit like that.” 

 

“Dad says he hasn't seen a villain like that in years and that he doesn't think any of the villains of this time will ever be as good.” 

 

“Dad is stuck in his ways. Just because villains stopped killing people doesn't mean they aren't worthy opponents. Dad's just… old.” 

 

Sam grins. “Yeah, well I tried to tell him I'd rather be in management, but he still said no.” 

 

“Management? I didn't know you wanted to be doing that.” Dean crosses his arms, ignoring the sound of leather creaking. “You always wanted to be like me and Dad, last I checked.” 

 

“Well, management is kinda like you and Dad. I mean, I would help sentence the bad guys and figure out ways to better enforce against them.” 

 

“I thought you wanted more action.” 

 

Sam rolls his eyes. “I just said that so I could meet  _ The Halo.  _ You're hiding something when it comes to him, so I wanna know.” 

 

“I'm  _ not  _ hiding something,” Dean retorts, huffing out a laugh that sounds weak even to his own ears. Shrugging, he heads to the door. “Look, I'm going to do my  _ job,  _ and you should be in bed. Tomorrow, you better finish your paper.” 

 

“Fine,” Sam sings, making a face that is full of endless teasing. “Have fun with your evil villain. Maybe this time you'll actually catch him.” 

 

“He's not  _ my-  _ oh, go to bed, Sammy.” 

 

Sam laughs quietly to himself all the way down the hallway. Dean rolls his eyes and ducks out of his room, snatching up his keys to Baby. Short on time due to Sam's impromptu visit, he puts Baby into jet-mode and sails into the air from the gap in the alleyway. 

 

Not much traffic in the air. 

 

Sycove Valley is the government building with all the records of their city, and Dean parks Baby behind the building to bypass the reporters out front. He can see the lights of the police cars passing over the shadows, the red-white-blue glow flashing in an endless spiral. Dean rolls his eyes and sighs, aware they'd just stand around and wait for some hero to show up and do their job for them. As usual. 

 

Without much fanfare, he slips in through a back window. The building is quiet, but Dean knows the alarm has been going for at least half an hour. He wonders if  _ The Halo  _ knows he's caught. 

 

If Dean knows any villain - and he's caught plenty -  _ The Halo  _ is in the record room, causing some kind of chaos. So, he heads there and pretends his palms are absolutely  _ not _ sweating in his gloves. 

 

_ Bingo.  _

 

For a brief moment, Dean watches  _ The Halo  _ through the window on the door of the record room. He is rifling through the pullout drawers, frown on his face as he searches for something. The black mask around his eyes do little to dim the blue of them; even in the dark, they seem to glow. 

 

Without preamble, Dean bursts into the room, breath catching the moment those blue eyes snap up to land on him. Dean forgets exactly what he's doing here for just one second, then he whips his mind into shape and remembers to dip his voice into a lower register. 

 

“Halo,” he greets gruffly. 

 

_ The Halo  _ lifts a file to his chest, standing to full height, his mechanical wings obvious as he straightens. “Hunter,” he replies in that rough voice, so low and full of a growl. 

 

“So, we meet again,” Dean says, then immediately regrets that. 

 

_ The Halo  _ arches an eyebrow, his lips twitching almost imperceptibly. “So, we do. We have to stop doing that.” 

 

“Yes, I do agree. One solution is you going to the pit, then we'd never see each other again.” 

 

“I'll have to pass. I fear I'd miss those eyes of yours far too much.” 

 

Dean forces himself not to chuckle. “Unfortunately for you, Halo, this ends today. Give me the file.” 

 

_ The Halo  _ looks down to the file, his lips tipping down. “I can't do that.” 

 

“Don't make me take it from you.” 

 

“You couldn't if you tried.” 

 

Any other villain in the world and that would have been a threat, but coming from  _ The Halo,  _ it feels like flirting. Dean has to take a steady breath and keep a cool head, well aware that this has to end. As much fun as his encounters with  _ The Halo  _ have been, his dad really  _ will  _ kick his ass if he doesn't manage to send him to the pit. 

 

“Only way you're leaving here tonight is in handcuffs,” Dean says seriously. 

 

“Ooh, kinky,” _ The Halo  _ replies with a smile, his completely illegal lips curling up. “Who knew you had it in you, Hunter? And here I thought you were like every other hero.” 

 

Dean tells his mind to  _ shut the fuck up now, please, it is never going to happen  _ and grabs his handcuffs out of his pocket. “You just  _ had  _ to be a villain, didn't you? We couldn't have met in a coffee shop or something? Because dude, you have no idea just how kinky I can get.” 

 

_ The Halo  _ laughs roughly, taking a step around the filing cabinet, his winged-suit flowing like sin over him as he moves. “Oh, you have no clue just how aware I  _ am,  _ Hunter. But fine, you win, you caught me.” 

 

“What?” Dean blurts, his stomach dropping as a distinct feeling of disappointment whips through him. 

 

“You heard me,”  _ The Halo  _ tells him conversationally, taking a step forward. “You want me so bad, you've got me.” 

 

“You're fucking with me.” 

 

“Oh no, I'm completely serious.” 

 

_ The Halo  _ takes another step forward. The handcuffs suddenly feel much heavier in Dean's hands and he blinks slowly. 

 

“You're just going to let me… take you?” 

 

“You can do whatever you like.” 

 

Another step, drawing closer.

 

“You're going to the pit, Halo.” 

 

“Am I?” 

 

Fuck, Dean has no  _ idea.  _ “Yes.”

 

“You're able to do anything and  _ that's  _ what you have your heart set on?”  _ The Halo  _ prowls closer, blue eyes so wide and piercing. “Are you certain?” 

 

Dean absurdly is  _ not,  _ but he says, “It kinda is my job. Not used to the bad guys succumbing so quickly though. This is new for me.” 

 

“Before I give myself to your undoubtedly  _ very  _ capable hands, Hunter, I'd like to do something new as well,”  _ The Halo  _ whispers, drifting closer as if he is floating. “Is that alright?” 

 

“Yes,” Dean breathes in reply, though he is well aware that it is  _ not  _ alright and he's probably going to end up in a very bad position. 

 

_ The Halo  _ hums in a pleased fashion, his blue eyes flickering ever so closely, and Dean can feel the warmth of his body. Those stupidly pink lips hover over his own for just a moment of hesitation before crashing down. Immediately, Dean forgets everything he's  _ supposed  _ to be doing, very on board with doing this instead. 

 

And of course, a  _ villain  _ kisses so fucking deviously, lips hot and intense on his, tongue sweeping out eagerly for a taste. Without thinking, Dean opens up to him and tries not whimper like an idiot when teeth nip at his bottom lip and  _ tug.  _ He doesn't even have enough brain power to care when his back hits the wall by the door, too gone on the filthy kiss he's being given. 

 

_ The Halo  _ runs hungry fingers up into his hair, rocking forward to pin him in place. Dean can barely focus as his mouth gets plundered, pathetic groans falling between the cracks when they break for air. Even as  _ The Halo  _ runs his hands over Dean's chest, tracing over his shoulders and down his arms, careless of his suit, it does nothing to distract him from this. 

 

Except. 

 

It takes Dean a second to think through the fog in his brain, but when he manages to, he realizes something. This isn't  _ succumbing.  _ If anything,  _ The Halo  _ is the one in complete control and  _ Dean  _ is the one yielding to him - with no complaints, but  _ still.  _

 

That realization is immediately followed with the sound of Dean's handcuffs clicking into place. Eyes snapping open, he watches as  _ The Halo  _ peels back to stare at him with a small smirk. 

 

“You didn't,” Dean croaks. 

 

_ The Halo  _ sighs softly. “I did.” 

 

And yeah, he  _ did.  _ The asshole. Dean tugs on his wrist, glaring down at the handcuffs chaining him to the pipe behind the door. 

 

“That was cheap.” Dean turns a scowl on  _ The Halo  _ and tries not to be so stupidly attracted to him.

 

“Yes, it was. But is it too forward of me to say that I enjoyed it?” 

 

“Shut up.” 

 

“Oh, Hunter, you  _ are  _ my favorite.” 

 

Dean does not say it, but the echoing words dance in the air anyway. 

 

“I  _ will  _ catch you one of these days.” 

 

_ The Halo  _ cocks his head. “Perhaps, but today is not that day. And if matters of the heart are involved, I suggest you tread lightly on catching me.” 

 

“And why is that, Halo?” 

 

“You'd miss me, of course.” 

 

Dean scoffs and narrows his eyes. “Next time.” 

 

“Okay,”  _ The Halo  _ agrees softly, lips curling up far too sweetly for a man who causes mayhem for fun. 

 

Then, for seemingly no reason at all,  _ The Halo  _ shifts forward and presses a soft kiss to his lips, lingering there for a moment. Something about it is too personal for Dean to comprehend. It's careful and heavy with something that feels like  _ more,  _ and Dean's the idiot who closes his eyes and kisses back, helpless to stop himself. 

 

_ The Halo  _ pulls back with a sigh, a sound full of regret and tragedy. Dean blinks rapidly as he turns away and leaves the room without another look back. 

 

It takes him two minutes to break out of his handcuffs, but by then,  _ The Halo  _ is gone. 

 

After giving his report to the cops and ignoring their chiding for not doing their job for them, Dean heads home. It had taken hours to get the police chief off his back, so by the time he gets home, it's already daylight outside. He parks the car and heads up to the apartment. 

 

Sam is sitting at the table, working on his paper, and he glances up when Dean enters. “So, did you catch him this time?” 

 

“Next time,” Dean declares. 

 

Sam snorts. “Right, we'll see. Oh, by the way, Cas is up in your room. He said something about having some news.” 

 

“Cool, thanks. Is Dad out?” 

 

“Yeah, he left first thing this morning.” 

 

“Of course he did.” Dean rolls his eyes and hides his grimace from Sam. “That paper coming along?” 

 

“I guess.” Sam heaves a sigh. “You know, I'd be doing data analysis if I switched to management.” 

 

Dean blinks at him. “And you  _ want  _ to do that.” 

 

“Well, yeah,” Sam says, like it's obvious. 

 

“Alright,” Dean mutters, clapping Sam on the shoulder as he walks by. “I'll have a talk with Dad, okay? Just… finish the paper.” 

 

“Thanks, Dean.” 

 

“Don't mention it, Sammy.” 

 

With that, Dean heads to his room, walking in with a sigh. Cas is lying on his bed, wearing his usual stuffy sweater and thick reading glasses. He fiddles with one of Dean's knives, but he sits it aside when Dean closes the door. 

 

“Hello, Dean,” he greets softly.

 

“What's up, man?” Dean says, throwing a smile over his shoulder as he starts to peel his suit off and toss it all into the closet. 

 

Cas clears his throat. “So, I've got some news.” 

 

“Finally found yourself a chick?” Dean asks hopefully, turning around to waggle his eyebrows at his best friend. 

 

Cas snatches his eyes up to Dean's, his smile thin and fake as hell. “No, not that.” 

 

Dean can see that something is up, so he quickly shoves himself into a t-shirt and jogging pants. He pads over to his bed and plops down beside Cas, keeping his expression open. 

 

Admittedly, he's a little wary. Cas hasn't had too good of a time at the factory, and hell, Dean thinks he's too smart to be working there. But of course, people too poor or those who flunk out of the academy end up at the factory or working in the fields. It isn't the first time Dean wishes the academy gave out scholarships; Cas would have been great in management. As a hero,  _ hell no,  _ because Cas wasn't exactly the fighting type, but that's besides the point. 

 

“Alright, what's going on? You didn't get fired, did you? Because, look, I already told you to stop mouthing off to your supervisors. I know you've got a bit of fire in you, but I don't want you to have to work in the fields. I'd never get to see you.” 

 

“Dean, stop.” 

 

Dean nods. “Okay.” 

 

“The news is… I'm moving away,” Cas murmurs, looking at him with a ducked head, his blue eyes so dim behind his glasses. 

 

“Oh, that's all? Where you heading to? I mean, it sucks we won't be neighbors, but if you're only moving across town, I'll make the commute,” Dean tells him seriously. 

 

Cas slowly shakes his head. “No, I'm moving out of the state,” he says quietly. 

 

Dean blinks. “What? No, you- you can't.” 

 

“Dean, I hate my job. I hate my apartment. I hate my _life._ The only thing I don't hate is you.” Cas swallows thickly and takes a deep breath. “I got my hands on some documents that will help me get a fresh start.” 

 

Dean just stares at him, feeling as if he'd been abruptly slapped in the face. Cas can't…  _ leave.  _ Cas has been apart of his life for years; they'd done so much together. There isn't anyone else Dean can talk to, not about  _ everything.  _

 

“Dean?” 

 

Finally, Dean manages to mutter, “I don't want you to go. What if I talk to my dad? He could probably pull some strings at-” 

 

“Dean, your father despises me.” 

 

“No, he- okay, but he  _ might.  _ Cas, please.” 

 

“This is a good thing, remember?” 

 

“How? You're  _ leaving.  _ I'll never talk to you again, never see you again. How is this good in any conceivable way?” 

 

Cas smiles slightly, eyes sad. “Okay, so it sucks. But can you be happy for me? You're my best friend, and I'm going to have a job I can take pride in.” 

 

Dean purses his lips. “Stay.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Just stay? Jobs suck, no matter where you go. You know what really matters?  _ Love.”  _

 

Cas’ eyes seem to spark behind his glasses, blue eyes brightening. He takes in a shaky breath and licks his lips. “What do you mean?” 

 

Dean winks at him playfully. “I  _ mean,  _ that girl Daphne has had her eyes on you for a few years, if you haven't noticed. I'm sure if you'd ask her out, you two could-” 

 

Cas visibly deflates, which steals all the words from Dean's throat. “Oh, I see.” 

 

“Cas, come on,” Dean chuckles awkwardly, his stomach knotting with anxiety. “There has to be  _ something  _ that will make you stay.” 

 

“Oh, there is,” Cas replies with eyes sadder than a man in love, “but it wouldn't ask me to.”

 

“Cas-” 

 

“Dean, I have to leave now.” 

 

Dean's eyes bulge. “Now? Like… right now?” 

 

“Yes, right now,” Cas says firmly, clearing his throat and standing. “But I want you to know, you will always be my best friend, and I will always love you.” 

 

“Hey, hey, c'mere,” Dean croaks out, throat thick with emotion. He scrambles to his feet and snatches Cas into a tight hug, squeezing a little too hard as a couple of rebellious tears manage to escape. He pulls away and claps Cas on the shoulder, clearing his throat before muttering, “You know I love you too, man.” 

 

Cas looks at him for one long moment, his eyes shrouded by his glasses. Then, he smiles a soft smile that Dean would be cool with seeing every single day if Cas would just  _ stay.  _

 

“I left you a package under the pillow. Wait until I leave to open it, okay?” 

 

“Yeah, Cas, of course.” 

 

With that, Cas turns away and walks out of the room. Dean stands there for a moment, feeling kind of hollow and full of too much shit to actually explore. He leans over his dresser to watch Cas pull off, frowning as the cab takes him away. 

 

Dean sits on his bed and stares at the door, mind blank and full all at once. 

 

“Hey, you look like someone told you Baby got stolen,” Sam says as he steps in the doorway. “You alright? Cas just came rushing through the apartment; it looked like he was crying.” 

 

Dean frowns. “He's leaving. I mean, for good and very far away.” 

 

“Oh.” Sam blinks rapidly. “That sucks. Are you okay?” 

 

“Yeah, I mean, why wouldn't I be, right?” Dean tries to smile but it twists bitterly. “He was only my best friend who I've had at my side for my entire life, no biggie.” 

 

Sam averts his eyes respectfully, as every Winchester does when another shows emotion. Dean swipes at his eyes and tells himself that being this upset isn't weak. Cas is… well, he's as important as Sam is, just in so many different ways. 

 

“I'm gonna miss him,” Sam admits. 

 

Dean gives a wet chuckle. “Yeah, me too.” 

 

“I'm gonna… go finish my paper,” Sam informs him clinically, making a quick exit as every Winchester does if tears ever make an appearance. 

 

“You do that, Sam,” Dean replies blandly, hating his stupid fucking itchy eyes. 

 

“Look, if you want to talk later-” 

 

“Probably not. Just go do your paper.” 

 

Translation:  _ please let me cry in the privacy of my room.  _

 

Sam's not an idiot, so he goes without saying anything else. He makes sure to close the door behind him. 

 

Dean releases a sigh and reaches under his pillow to pull out the package Cas left him. With a sniffle he'd hate himself for later, he peels it open and stares inside. Almost immediately, his tears dry up and shock takes over. 

 

The mask Dean would know anywhere, belonging only to  _ The Halo  _ sits inside the box with a card underneath. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to reach out and lift the card up. He stares at the words for a long time, mind completely blank. 

 

_ Told you that you'd miss me, Hunter. Goodbye, Dean.  _

 

Dean lets out a shuddering breath and says, “I wish-” 

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


Chuck paces back and forth, running his tongue under his top lip as he goes. He presses his arms close to his ribs and considers suffocation. Literally anything would be better than  _ this.  _

 

“You know, you could always just rewrite the stories and  _ make  _ them get together.” 

 

Chuck shoots a sharp look at Amara. “That's not  _ authentic.  _ I don't understand what's wrong.” 

 

Amara rolls her eyes and heaves a sigh. “Alright, stop whining. Tell me what's going on.” 

 

“Okay,” Chuck agrees eagerly, pulling up a chair and sitting down. “It just doesn't make  _ sense.  _ I mean, they love each other, no matter where they are, but why aren't they getting together?” 

 

“Maybe they're supposed to have that kind of tragic love? You know, the ones where they'd be  _ perfect,  _ but something always keeps them apart.” Amara arches an eyebrow pointedly. “Also, it might help if you didn't try to have them fall in love amidst a zombie apocalypse.” 

 

“That was  _ one  _ time, and that was great until they died.” Chuck reached up to tug at his hair, groaning. “Maybe I need to go in there, give them a nudge. I mean, I made them for each other, why aren't they  _ working?”  _

 

Amara snorts. “Yeah, don't do that. Complete interference and doesn't count. How about you just come up with a story that  _ doesn't  _ end in tragedy?” 

 

“I  _ tried  _ that. I even gave them a daughter! And they  _ still  _ managed to be apart.” 

 

“So maybe they aren't meant to be.” 

 

Chuck narrows his eyes and points at her with a scowl. “Yes, they  _ are.  _ I made them!” 

 

“Okay, okay,” Amara chuckles, lifting her hands in surrender. “Look, let's review, okay? Maybe don't put them in a world they can't fight out of. Oh, and don't make one of them a  _ monster  _ that wants to eat the other. Another idea is to not put one of them in a position to rebel so hard. And Chuck, don't make one of them set on saving the world. Also, just a note here, but maybe stop letting them die so much.” 

 

Chuck stares at her for a moment before a small smile curls on his lips. “Amara, you're a  _ genius!”  _

 

“Why, yes, I do think-” 

 

“They need a story with  _ all  _ of that!” 

 

“Why do I even bother?” Amara mutters, rolling her eyes and turning away. 

 

Chuck hums in a pleased fashion a few moments later. “Yes, yes, this is  _ working.  _ Perfect.” 

 

“You didn't have one of them be a monster that wants to eat each other, right?” 

 

“Well, only for a bit, but Cas isn't even around.” 

 

“Oh, so Dean's the monster this time?” 

 

“Yeah, a vampire.” 

 

Amara clicks her teeth. “Sam's still around, right? You know how much I like Sam.” 

 

“Well,  _ duh.  _ Sam is Dean's brother every single time. He's actually really central in this one.” 

 

“So, they're actually living in this one?” 

 

Chuck waves a hand distractedly. “No, they've all died plenty, but they keep coming back.” 

 

“Well, there's a loophole.” 

 

“Shhh, I actually think this one's gonna work out. Oh, would it be weird if I did a self-insert?” 

 

“Undoubtedly,” Amara deadpans. 

 

“I can put you in too,” Chuck says, raising his eyebrows playfully. 

 

“Oh, alright, but I want to be a villain. Well, not a  _ bad  _ villain, but… you know.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah, I'll work it out.” 

 

A few more moments go by. 

 

“So, who's the rebel?” 

 

“Cas.” 

 

Amara tuts. “You favor him.”

 

“Well, he is a really layered character, okay?” 

 

“You know who's a layered character?  _ Sam.”  _

 

“You are weirdly obsessed with Sam, Amara.” 

 

“Don't put that in.” 

 

“Noted.” 

 

“So, who's saving the world?” 

 

Chuck hums, pursing his lips. “Well, just Dean and Sam at first, but Cas comes along and helps too.” 

 

“Nice,” Amara says in approval. 

 

“I made him an Angel this time,” Chuck informs her proudly. 

 

Amara chuckles. “So, he's a good guy this go around? The way it was looking, I was beginning to think you liked him to suffer.” 

 

“Oh no, he's not a  _ good guy;  _ he's doing some crazy shit. And I don't like to see him suffer.” Chuck averts his eyes and clears his throat. “He just solicites more sympathy when he does.” 

 

“So, are they in love yet?” 

 

“I… think? I mean, they've definitely got feelings, but they're not doing anything about it.” 

 

“The curse of layered characters.” Amara brushes her hair over her shoulder and shrugs. “Scrap and try again.” 

 

“Wait, wait.” Chuck holds up a hand with wide eyes and releases a slow breath. “Amara, I think they're gonna- well, I'll be…  _ it worked!”  _

 

Amara smiles in amusement. “Great, now you can shut up about them. So, who's next?” 

 

Chuck moves over to the chair and sighs, leaning back. “I don't know, I kinda got attached to them.” 

 

“I have to admit, they were the best so far.” 

 

“Wanna see how it happened?” 

 

“Sam's there, right?” 

 

_ “Amara.”  _

 

“Fine, yes, show me how these idiots got together.” 

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


_ Tell me, oh please, tell me we are meant to be.  _

  
***

 

Dean sighs as the bunker door shuts behind him with a loud clang, his eyes tracking the determined stride Cas walks away with. 

 

“You're in trouble,” Sam sing-songs, eyes lit up with amusement. 

 

“Shut up, no I'm not,” Dean replies immediately, turning to his last ally. 

 

Jack presses his lips together, his eyebrows crawling up his forehead. “You're in trouble,” he confirms solemnly. 

 

“No, I'm not,” Dean repeats firmly, refusing to bow under their certainty. 

 

“You're in trouble!” Cas calls out loudly. 

 

Dean huffs out a quiet, “Shit.” 

 

“Go talk to him, patch things up,” Sam tells him, chuckling quietly. 

 

Jack nods in agreement. “I read online that couples who fight are often actually really in love with each other.” 

 

“You just said a whole bunch of words that don't make sense,” Dean says, whirling around to stomp down the stairs, ignoring Sam's laughter. 

 

Cas is standing at Dean's bedroom door, facing it and glaring holes into it. Dean's man enough to admit to himself that he's just  _ slightly  _ nervous to bypass him and enter his own room, but he's not that much of a bitch to stop himself. Straightening his shoulders, he knocks right by Cas and steps into his room. 

 

He tells himself that he's not pleased at how Cas had let him brush past, giving in like he wasn't a celestial being who probably knew every pressure point that could instantly knock him unconscious. 

 

“Well, come on,” Dean mutters, waving him in with a sigh. “I know you're mad and you want to chew me out, so get in here.” 

 

Cas dutifully steps in the room. “I am not angry with you, Dean. I was  _ scared.  _ You scared me.” 

 

Dean refuses to examine the predominant warmth that just fucking settles within him nearly all the time when Cas is around now. It's utter bullshit, and Dean isn't dealing with it. 

 

“Dude, it wasn't that big of a deal, okay? The opening was there, I had to take it.” 

 

“No, Dean, you did not. I had it under control, and your “opening” nearly got you killed.” 

 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Relax, Cas, we're all okay. You're acting like a real mother-hen lately.” 

 

“Because you continue to put yourself at risk. Do you think I brought you out of hell for this? For you to die by a  _ vampire?  _ After all that we have done, you nearly cost yourself for- for  _ what?”  _

 

“Cas, this is my  _ job.  _ This is what I do, okay? You know this. Hell, you ain't ever cared before.” 

 

Cas’ eye twitches, just slightly. “Dean,” he murmurs carefully, rough voice shaking with obvious anger, and shit, Dean really  _ is  _ in trouble, “I have always cared about your continued longevity. The fact that you're so quick to disregard your own life is-” 

 

“Look, the vampire was gonna bite you, okay?” Dean lifts his hands and let them drop back down to his sides. “I wasn't thinking and I just… jumped in the way. Good thing I did too, because an angel-vampire hybrid woulda been bad. That's a… angire, or a vamgel. Anything coulda happened.” 

 

Cas stares at him blankly. “There are moments that I consider death.” 

 

“Har har, very funny. I'm serious.” 

 

“And so am  _ I.  _ You could have died, Dean. You nearly did. How do you think Sam would have felt, or Jack? After everything with Michael and Lucifer, and every horrible thing that came after, they deserve better than you simply flaunting your life.” 

 

Dean heaves a sigh and mutters, “Cut me some slack, man. It's  _ really  _ not that big of a deal.” 

 

“It is.” 

 

“Why?” 

 

“Because, Dean, your life is not some toy you give others to break.” 

 

“Okay, I get it, but why are  _ you  _ so upset? Nothing happened. I never remember you being this crazy when all the end-of-the-world shit was going on.” 

 

“That was different.” Cas narrows his eyes, tilting his head to the side. “The world gave up its endeavor to end. We are simply living our lives now, Dean. My grace is no longer what it once was. I will grow old along with you and Sam. We will one day die, genuinely, and I'd hope for that to be further in the future.” 

 

“So, not next Tuesday? Because there goes my plans,” Dean jokes, heart feeling funny in his chest. 

 

Cas frowns at him. “I am serious.” 

 

“Yeah, I know,” Dean mumbles, exhaling sharply through his nose. “Alright, I'm sorry, okay? So, stop riding my ass about it.” 

 

“I'm not- I was just… worried.” 

 

“Don't know why.” 

 

“Because I care about you, Dean,” Cas snaps, whole body twitching like he might want to smash Dean's head against the wall. “Why can't you understand this? I do not want you to die.” 

 

“But I'm gonna.” 

 

“Preferably when you are old and after I have already passed.” 

 

Dean flinches, despite himself. He's never liked the idea of Cas dying, and it certainly never got easier every time he did it. Clearing his throat, Dean does what he always does when subjected to surprise feelings - he covers it up. 

 

“Whatever, I'll die when I damn well please. You don't tell me what to do.” Dean reaches out and pokes Cas’ unfairly firm chest. “You're not the boss of me, ya know.” 

 

Cas blinks, eyebrows furrowing. “I am not your boss, no. Dean, you don't work at any establishment that I facilitate, and I certainly do not pay you.” 

 

Dean rolls his eyes. “I was joking, Cas.” He sighs heavily and forces himself to man the fuck up. “So, uh, you still pissed at me?” 

 

“I am always angry with you.” 

 

“What the fuck did I do?” 

 

Cas arches an eyebrow. “The better question is what  _ don't  _ you do.” 

 

“Good point,” Dean concedes. “Look, I'm sorry about trying to save your life.” He makes a face and waves his hands in front of him. “My bad, I'll keep myself in check next time.” 

 

“Very well,” Cas replies, rolling his eyes. Then, he looks around the room, clearing his throat. “I suppose I will leave you to… whatever it is you're meant to be doing.” 

 

“Why do you always sound suspicious about what humans do in their free time?” Dean asks, fighting a laugh. 

 

Cas squints at him. “Because humans have strange customs, but you and Sam are far more strange.” 

 

“Thanks, buddy, that really makes me feel secure in myself,” Dean mocks sarcastically, rolling his eyes. 

 

“You're welcome.” 

 

“You're being an ass on purpose.” 

 

“Yes,” Cas admits, not sounding ashamed in the least. 

 

“You're lucky I love you, or I'd kick your ass.” 

 

Cas opens his mouth to reply, then doesn't, and Dean processes the words that just fell from his mouth. He hears them reverberate in his head and he tries to think of ways they don't mean what they mean. Cas says nothing, his mouth slowly closing as he lets Dean have his moment. 

 

Dean's mind is a litany of  _ fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.  _

 

Clearing his throat, Cas says, “Dean-” 

 

“Nope,” Dean cuts him off. “Give me a moment.” 

 

Cas gives him a moment. 

 

“Okay, I'm good. Continue.” 

 

“I was just going to say that you could not kick my ass if you truly wanted to,” Cas tells him seriously, looking almost pitying. 

 

And Dean just fucking  _ loses it.  _ He laughs so hard he has to clutch his stomach as his head flings back. The laughter continues to grow, and he has no choice but to fold over and brace his hands on his knees. Wheezing, he waits for the deliriousness to seep out of him, and for a moment, he worries he'd laugh himself to death before face this. 

 

But the laughter does eventually subside, and Dean has no choice but to straighten back up and look into a pair of blue eyes he's kinda been halfway in love with for forever. And there it is, just out there now, and Cas doesn't look any different at all. The world hasn't went up in flames. Dean hasn't immediately been sent back to hell to burn for eternity. 

 

Well, there goes all his excuses. And fuck, he calls  _ Sam  _ dramatic. 

 

“So hey, about what I said-” 

 

“Dean, you can tell another man you love him and it does not have to mean anything romantic.” Cas rolls his eyes. “I've watched most of Netflix, I am not completely clueless.” 

 

Dean clears his throat, ignoring his mind as it blares on repeat:  _ there's our chance, abort, abort.  _

 

Now that it's out there, he  _ can't  _ ignore it. So, he casually scratches the back of his neck and stares at the floor. “Yeah, but in this case, I kinda did.” 

 

Damn, he could've heard a pin drop. The silence is way too fucking loud, and when he looks up, Cas is simply staring at him with those too blue eyes. 

 

“You kinda did, what?” Cas asks carefully. 

 

Dean looks at the ceiling. “Ya know.” 

 

“No, I do not.” 

 

“You do.” 

 

“Dean,” Cas growls, “indulge me.” 

 

Fine.  _ Fine.  _ If that's what he wants, Dean will fucking indulge him, or whatever. He'll indulge the shit out of him, and then Cas will be the one feeling like a fucking idiot. 

 

Because he's supposed to finding his footing and also because he's a goddamn fool, Dean steps forward and reaches out to draw Cas in close, unthinkingly smacking one on him without using his fucking brain for once in his life. 

 

That, it turns out, is a very good thing. 

 

Dean is a fucking dumbass, but that's just fine, because Cas is kissing him back. With a pleased hum, he reaches out to grasp Dean closer, kiss unfurling into something heated. And yeah, that's Cas’ tongue in Dean's mouth, and that's  _ amazing,  _ except sex isn't the point. 

 

_ Later, later,  _ his mind soothes as he snatches himself away, quite literally sucking in a sharp breath. 

 

“So, yeah,” Dean pants, “I love you, I guess.” 

 

Cas arches an eyebrow. “You  _ guess?”  _

 

“No, yeah, I mean… no? No, I  _ do.”  _ Dean licks his lips, mind not actually working. “Look, I can't think right now because my brain is really focused on the fact that we could put our dicks in each other's mouths, like  _ right now, _ so everything that I'm saying isn't making sense. But yes. Love, yes. You, yes. I do that, yes.” 

 

“I suppose I do that as well,” Cas tells him without flinching, his expression solid and unbothered. 

 

Dean jerks back. “You suppose? The fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

 

“It means that we are on the same page about many things, one of which involves nudity. Yes?” 

 

“Oh, hell  _ yes.”  _

 

 

* * *

  
  
  


“And then they live happily ever after.” 

 

Amara stares at Chuck. “Just like that?” 

 

“Just like that,” Chuck confirms. 

 

“Wow.” 

 

“I know, right? I mean, all that they went through and it happens because Dean's a dork.” 

 

Amara's eyebrows jump. “So, you don't like it?” 

 

“No, I mean, I do. I always want the people who I make for each other to find their happy ending, but I dunno, it just kinda feels… anticlimactic?” 

 

“So… scrap it and try again?” 

 

Chuck just smiles slightly. “Nah, I think I'll let them have it. Besides, I figure that there are some others out there who might enjoy the characters.” 

 

“Hey, maybe they'll write stories that will get them together  _ without  _ all of that crazy stuff you put in there,” Amara suggests playfully. 

 

Chuck snorts. “Good luck. With these two, it's never simple.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! Don't hesitate to drop off some kudos and leave a comment; I do so adore them! 
> 
> Ta!


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